The way you say those words

makes me

fall back in.

The mind games you play

can be so cruel;

causing stings and pulses

surging in my skull.


You’re not an addiction;

I would have to enjoy you, crave you,

need you for that.

No, you are a deadly medicine.

My sickness is loneliness

and you are the drug I take

to cease this episode.


Your domesticated wolf.

I have claws and teeth and all

the things you want to strip me of.

But they are also the features you

long for in bed alone at night.

I can howl and

growl

and whimper at your feet.

Still you trap me in a leash.


I hunt you during the day;

but you chase your hound at night.

I’ve loved you and lost you;

it’s time for me to stalk,

to roam the wilds, free of you.

But you only grasp my mane tighter.

You ***** my heavy, soft fur;

marvel and leer at my savage,

intoxicating form.

You think you have tamed the beast

which means you can own me.

‘See these luminescent eyes?

They’re mine.’


You make me feel the unbearable

weight of guilt;

strapped along my back.

Of trying to stop this imprisonment.

Because it is a hellish cage for us both.

You make me feel all fetid and rank inside;

endlessly making the mistakes you don’t know if

you can forgive me for, love me for.

I don’t want to be dealt the vicious card of villain.

I don’t want to be the murderer.

The internal bleeding I hide,

makes me realise

I have no choice.


Lose you, be loved by you, end you,

all mean the same twisted inky blotch.


I only wish I could have been the one to lunge.

Lunge for your throat.

Rip gashes in the sinewy, tall

master I have.

Tear your limbs from you;

cleave your confidence, your stoicism.

Erase that brutish nature only I can see.


Instead of you choking me.

Instead of the tight noose around my throat.

Before you cut it off and whipped my hide

as I bounded to the closest shadows I could find.

Tamed so much that power was forgotten.


Your domesticated wolf.

Idle moments,

forgotten dreams.

Listless wanderings,

raucous play and empty hearts,

bleeding away the foul nights.


What is a moment?

Come take a walk through the infinite second;

void of definition, standard or law.

Come and watch with me.

The sordid dens filled with debauchery;

the lonely houses drowning in darkness;

the enchanting thrill of lovers’ chase;

hearts stolen in the quiet night;

nightmares frightened off with the touches of a lover.


Come, let’s discover the possibilities of one single,

droplet of time.

The eyes that meet;

the friendly greet;

lovers we lose;

the farewells we choose;

Lifted hearts tempted and lost,

to frivolous imaginings at great cost.


Come and see the multitudes of fantasies;

donated or taken in a moment.

The first kiss we grant on tender lips;

passions ignited under the blessed light of stars;

to wandering hands prying into locked chests;

cruel bargains stolen and delivered in secret touches.

The people agreed to;

those consumed without consent.

All in a single moment.

One fragment can narrate endless stories.


Come and lose ourselves in the worlds

we shape for each other.

Blossoming loves;

petty arguments won;

promises made and broken;

lascivious thirst for skin on skin;

fights turned brutal, burning, raging in the dead hours;

shattered trust; bitter confusion;

stinging remorse;

the pulse of regret tapping under the skin.

We feel so much in one second.


Together, a seething, roiling

mass of humanity laid bare.

A connective unit, ignoring it’s separate

millions of limbs.

Let’s marvel at this spectacle.

The smell of fresh rain,

perfumes the evening breeze outside;

a soft scent carried along by the clouds.

The coloured blush of flowers still

open to the gentle beat of raindrops.

Come with me and be still;

be calm and languid, supple and

warmed by the glow of company.


Let me strip you of your wet clothes.

I can see the light has waned.

Embrace me before you crumble;

arms outstretched,

a reflex to stop you hurtling down

to your knees.

I can feel you, a cold lake inside;

freezing over.


You say you are tired.

So tired of seeing me morph,

into your soldier.

I take up arms at the first signal.

But I don’t mind being in uniform;

at the first sign of your need.

Because I do love you,

in all your shapes and transfigurations.

In all your depths and dark pockets,

lighter days and mysterious vanishes.

I know this is true, I do love you.


You say you are a burden.

A burden you are not responsible for

manifesting on rainy mornings and

shady afternoons.

You are unpredictable; as gentle and ferocious

as nature.

But I don’t mind.

I tackle the excitement, mount the climbs;

I love knowing you can awaken from your

stupor, can ensure you always return to where

you deserve to be.

Bathed in light, laughter;

capable of all the things the true

monsters roaming this life can be, do, feel.

If those devils are entitled, I can make sure

you are too.


I wage war on your enemy; that nasty essence

defusing it’s toxicity.

It may take more of me than I have ever

donated;

more energy and strength,

more resilience to push through dark shadows,

fighting through imprisoned demons,

pulling away from sharp nails and dirtied hands.

But you don’t deserve those shackles.


Not everybody can do this;

can constantly seek new ways of breaking chains.

But don’t go to sleep believing I can’t.

I already have broken them,

many times over.

Or you simply wouldn’t exist today, at my feet.

And neither would I exist to fight for you, as I do.

What is it, that you could want from me,

my friend?

We walk along as shape-shifters;

Flickering, ephemeral forms.

Starting a labyrinth from opposite ends,

we hope to meet at the heart.

The strategy you follow and the actions I take

will never agree though.

I know you will keep left,

and I will circle endless maps,

waiting for you to find me.

Because that is what you do;

you find me.

I need your shelter, when I’m drowning in thorns,

spiny hedges, out of shape;

twisting and curling their brambles around me.


What is it, that you could want from me,

sweet lover?

Moth to flame;

shadows to the light;

a starving creature to the scent of fresh blood;

you gaze and crave and advance,

lost in heat.

I simply lean and wait to find you wanting.

Wanting the same crazed thing every other

man wants from me.

You are of the same mould;

burn the same;

hurt me the same;

excite me the same. But that is not an invitation.

I welcome the thrill;

but I also shiver at the chill you let in as you enter;

leaving the door open to a blizzard.


What is it, that you could want from me,

lovely admirer?

I struggle to cover up my holes and gaping wounds before

you eye me.

You like my insecurity;

you feed off my uncertainty.

You can sway me like no other.

Because you have seen those weak spots under

my skin and feathers.

And you show me you like them.

You warm the air around me,

everything shimmers and is soft to the touch.

I’m safe moving into your arms until

you show me truly what you are.

Scaly, coiled as a spring, rough,

grazing and cutting my skin.

You’re a snake that charmed me into

harm.

Stop admiring me, It’s worth so little

I could be better without it.


What is it, that you could yearn for in my presence,

my love?

Long, slow days wrapped in each other.

Excitement buries itself into expectation. Into routine.

I know you’re there when I call.

I know you sense my tears building,

before I do.

I know you already understand the words yet

to tumble from my mouth;

dirtying the floor and reeking of loss.

Why yearn, when you already have been given what

you need?

Why moan and cry at my feet, hurting, when you’ve already taken

what you need?

It’s only need. It’s not desire, or dreams.

It’s physical, real, and I’m the lost one thinking it was different.

Maybe, one day my love, I’ll be the one to yearn instead.

Loud enough that it will shudder and surge through your skin.

Enough that you can give back to me.


What is it, truly, that you want?

I know that the choice,

littered like puzzle pieces before you,

is a hard one.


I know you don’t mean to break me.


I know you want to conceal my cracks,

pointed edges,

gnarled and twisted,

before I get to see that they are still there.


I know you want me to wake up beside you, hopeful and

cured.

I know you want me to stop gathering my defences,

every time you throw a question over my fence.


I know you want me to be the one.

I also know that you are beginning to question if I am the one.


I know I follow an endless road. It’s always muddy and cold

and runs parallel to yours.


I know I seem settled but that’s the excuse and lie

I want for you to understand. That’s the image I

build for you.


I know I won’t be what you go to bed dreaming of.

I can’t live in fantasy with you, even though I can fall into

daydreams and blissful reveries of someone I could have been.


I know I ensnared you,

lured you into my bitter web.

I stalk around our trap like a purposeful spider,

self assured and cunning,

my body waiting for a moment to strike.

I know I’ll hurt you deeply; so much it’s

enough to cut you lose

from the net before I do something unforgivable.


I know we love the pull of each other. The safety we revel in, when

we pose as dangerous threats to each other.

The fiery lust and desire sparked when people look away.


I know I fell in love with you, but I also know that doesn’t mean

all that much to you.

I know it doesn’t mean you will always love me.

I know we hold each other until the first person lets go,

stops clinging to open arms;

warm bodies turn cold.

And I know one of us always leaves.


I know I am myself, and I wouldn’t change it for you.

Not for all your kisses or caresses or late-night passions.

Not for the eyes I bathe in or for all the sweet promises you break.


I know that I will always be me.

And I know I’ll continue to be me, strive to be me,

hold on to what I am, burn

as fierce as I do,

long after you take what’s dedicated yours

and run.

There is a silence.

A silence snaking through the empty paths in my head.

Someone turned the radio to mute.

A static signal, but I’m far

too numb to notice.


Take a white pill.

Let it coat your insides;

thick paint washing you out in white.

I’m numb again, riding a wave that doesn’t

meet the beach.

Suspended in a still ocean;

can you imagine waves never breaking?

A vast ocean that never rolls or tumbles?

That’s me on the inside.

I’m regulated and monitored to the second;

my body ticks over into offence.

Prevent the storm.

Be still.

Please.


Make sure you take that white pill.

Let it soothe that restless turning;

cogs sparking and running;

stop the thoughts from chasing you.

People notice more about me than I do.

‘You seem happier’.

Do I?

I don’t notice a thing; pins and needles aren’t

pinpricks stabbing up my leg,

but a dull ebb.

You think I seem better, less anxious;

less on edge, waiting for a collapse to override my system.

But I don’t feel a thing.

They keep me from having to worry about a feeling.


Is that white pill making your horrors fade away?

Are your demons drifting to some other realm?

Are they scuttering along stained walls;

colonising the deepest shadows on the inside;

hiding in fright?

I don’t know if they are running scared. I don’t feel anything to

tell me they are still here or there.

I can’t remember.

I’m just drifting along plain sands; I know I should sense the heat of the

desert, but I don’t. It’s just coarse sand under my feet.

I’m stable. For now. Drifting through listless,

silent voids with myself.

Life and people I can still react and sense and speak with.

But you have become a distant echo, distorted through space;

muffled and hollow tones behind a vacant door.


I sense you. I know you. I can tell you I care for you.

But I can’t do the same for myself.

I simply don’t know.

Tick, tick, tick,

each second monitored and regulated.

I feel the pulse as that little white pill surges along my streams and rivers.

Helping me. Helping you stay beside me.

But I don’t feel I thing.

I’m grateful I can escape like this;

but I also despise the necessity of escape, in this way.

Alone.

Floating.

I don’t feel a thing.

Do you know what you do to me?

Quiet fury, hauntingly close.

Every time you say that word, you leave an imprint,

a naked brand scarring my skin.

Raised, sore, bleeding on to my hands.

Soon I’ll be covered in welts,

because I can’t always agree to your demands.


Frigid.

Why so frigid?


You are now my disease.

I carry you wrapped in bed sheets inside;

nestled deep inside;

you course through my bloodstream,

hot, boiling my blood;

Sending flushes of sweat flooding my skin,

as you try again to reach for something that’s not yours.

Waves of infection that I wait to succumb to, every time we

feel the need to be intimate, to have a semblance of normality,

when I know I’m not even close to sharing myself with you.


You’re not…affectionate, are you?

You barely do anything, you leave it all up to me to love you,

just do something in return, start something would you?


Do you even realise your foul play?

I can’t help but carry your marks and bare them for

each new soul that steps towards me,

lovingly, until they know what I seem incapable of.

I do love you.

I do want you.

But please realise the scars and wounds and battle remnants I harbour;

bruises that don’t disappear, stitches that don’t disappear, tender spots

and pain that doesn’t

disappear as you try and ****** your way in.

You can’t be a cure.


Stop. You are just so cold.

Are we ever going to be together if you can’t do this for me?


You roll over in bed.

I can feel the heavy burden of disappointment.

Your chilly reception of my arms

resting on your chest.

Almost like I’m the one causing you suffering. My touch gives you

flinches,

subtle twists of your body away from mine.

I feel so horribly naked before you. It isn’t pleasant anymore.

It isn’t beautiful anymore.

I do all this for you, I lie down at your feet

and surrender myself to this icy blizzard because

I’m trying to make you happy.

I’m trying to keep you satisfied. It’s always been the battle I rage with

myself,

warring and violent punishments when I fail to keep you here,

tucked beside me,

warm and safe beside me.


I’m so sorry there are times

I can’t show you just how much I need you here.


I’m not stoic; I flail and drown all on my own, without you,

Without your fecund roots to keep me grounded.

Without your whispers and nips and possession.

Without your lips on mine, without your push and pull;

Without your refuge I seek, to escape myself.


But don’t you ever name-call again.

Don’t you ever make me close up inside again.

Don’t make me retract my limbs and curl,

fold and bend down, into myself, because you are hurt.

Don’t you ever think I don’t feel, don’t think I don’t need pleasure as you

do.

Don’t ever think you always provide it the way

I need you to.

I’m the one who cries at night, howling at the things I still don’t

achieve for you.

I’m the one who feels that I don’t support your weight as you

do for mine.

I’m the one who drifts into sad reveries of the time to come;

The time I know will come when you flee and run from

my outstretched arms.


Frigid.

Frigid.


Get out. This will never be ok.

Stop sending that word ripping underneath

my skin. Don’t impale me on such a lie.

It’s tender. I can be so gentle but you only remind me

of brutality; dominating my strength so I don’t

know it’s there.

How is that right for you to say to me?

Do you know what you do to me?